New Start, New Place, New People
by AquaArtistCat
Summary: Alexander Hamilton is in New York State, with his new foster parents, the Washingtons. He now has to survive his freshman year in high-school, as well as his past. Follow him as he meets friends, enemies, *cough* crushes *cough*, and adapts to New York. (Lams, Mullette, JefMads, to many ships. ALSO SUPER CLICHE sorry. No I'm not.)


Alexander got off the plane not knowing what to expect. This was his first time in American, after all. The teenager waked through a metal hallway, listening to his footsteps echo, along with a crowd of people around him. As he emerged into a building, he was hit with bunches of people talking. Noises. Words with no purpose. Back on Nevis, words were thrown around, yes, but there were such few people that the words reached all, and were savored.

But this was different. This was New York State. Words weren't for sympathy, love, compassion, or anything reasonable. Words were to be spoken to fill the empty void of silence.

"Pardon me, are you Alexander Hamilton?" a voice asked. Alex looked up. There was a man in some sort of uniform standing in front of him.

 _Idiot,_ Alex thought. Sometimes the words inside his head were more useless than the ones wasteful people dished out. The words distracted him, whether it be a good distraction or not. Yet, the teen loved his words. His voice was the only one he could tolerate.

"Sir?" The man repeated.

Alexander mentally slapped himself. "Oh, um, yeah... That's me." The teen stuttered. Words were difficult.

The tall man looked down at Alex. "I'm here to take you to your foster parents. Follow me." The man turned and began walking through the flood of people at the airport.

Alex swung his backpack, full of pens, notebooks, and clothes, over his shoulder and trailed behind the man, taking in the vast immense of people. It really was strange how many people are going from the same place to the same place at the same time.

Alex hadn't realized that the man was holding a car door open for him. "Thanks," The teenager murmured as he climbed into the passenger seat of the car.

As the man in a uniform started the engine, Alex opened the tiny flip mirror above the windshield open, and stared into it. A 16 year-old boy stared back. He had long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. Alex's gaunt face, pale from not eating properly, looked as though he had been through a hurricane and back. Which, semi ironically, he had been. Alexander tried to fix his hair, trying to look half decent for the upcoming meeting of his foster parents.

 _Oh, God, how have I stooped so low that I'm fixing my hair in a car?_ The teen thought, laughing on the inside. He snapped the mirror shut, and reclined in the seat, contemplating on how he had gotten into this situation.

For one, there was his mother. The sweetest woman alive. Well, not alive anymore... She had raised him alone, with little to no money. She would work triple what others would just to put food on the table. The pair lived in a small house, which was barely big enough for them both to sleep in. One day, after Alexander's daily lesson on French, (they didn't have any nearby schools) Alex began to cough. His mother was concerned when it worsened, so she decided to stay home and care for Alex for the day.

She got a fever after three hours. A week passed. Alex begged for food on the street. Two weeks. Alex had given all the food to his mother, but she refused. "You are all that matters to me, so please eat the food. It is of no use to me." She would say anytime Alex offered her scraps of food. Alex had to hold back tears to eat. Even then, he ate nearly nothing.

Alex coughed less and less, but his mother could barely move. One day Alex returned with a few rolls. He found his mother dead. He didn't eat for nearly a week.

"We've arrived." The man said as he turned off the engine. Alex opened the car door and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

The man led him through a pair of sliding doors into a rather cold building. Alex used to yearn for cold, having not experienced it on Nevis, but this cold was daunting. Alex felt as if something terrible was going to happen. The man he was following lead him to a reception counter.

"You must be Alex," the receptionist said with a smile, because confronting an orphan was something to smile about.

"Yes ma'am." Alex replied, a bit nervously.

The woman looked through a few papers, checked a few documents, and all that before she looked up again. "Alright, then. Mr. and Mrs. Washington have already got all the legal terms sorted out. They should be waiting for you in room 205." The receptionist beamed at Alexander.

"Thank you," Alex called awkwardly over his shoulder as he walked down a hall.

 _202, 203, 204... Aha! Room 205!_ Alex congratulated himself on finding the room. It had taken him almost ten minutes. _Whoever designed this building should be ashamed._ The teen thought.

Alex blew a loose strand of his brunette hair out of his face as he braced himself for what would come. For all he knew, his foster parents could be psychopaths who would brutally murder Alexander in his sleep. _Let's just hope for the best,_ Alex thought, nervously. He turned the door handle.


End file.
